Morning
by SonicFan3
Summary: There are few tasks in this world more trying and difficult than waking up a certain colony. *colonial!US and UK family*


England hated mornings.

It wasn't the waking up early part he minded. Oh, no, he'd never had a problem waking up early. In fact, he actually _liked_ getting up early, because it gave him time to prepare for the _real_ reason he hated mornings.

And that reason was the hassle known as the United States of America.

Dealing with America in the morning was on par with any war the empire had ever fought in his life. The child _loved_ his sleep, and he did not exactly warm up to the idea of getting up at a decent time instead of, say, around lunchtime.

Which, the one time England _had_ let him sleep in, he'd actually done. So the island nation had decided that from then on, whenever he was over at his precious colony's place to take care of him, the child was going to get a wake-up call no later than eight in the morning. The child was not a cat; he did not need sixteen hours of sleep.

And so began the challenging routine that was England's mornings in America.

For England, he started his day about two whole hours earlier than America, at six. Considering the ordeal that was ahead, he needed every last second.

The first step was to get _himself_ ready. This meant getting dressed, cleaning up, and preparing himself some tea that would kick his brain into the "on" position and give him the energy to deal with America..

Once that was all done, he steeled himself for what lay ahead.

First, waking up America. He had learned long ago that simply saying America's name wouldn't get him up, not even if it was shouted. Neither did light nor removing the covers.

Instead, one had to forcibly remove him from the bed. Apparently, the mattress was what caused the colony's sleep cycle, because once he was detached from it, he was wide awake.

Second was to actually get him dressed and keep him from returning to the mattress. If he went back to the mattress, it was right back to the realm of dreams. So England had to drag the child away, ignoring the protests and whining from the tired child. Very often, England had to drag the child down the hallway to the bathroom, where there was no mattress to tempt the child.

Finally, he had to get America down to the kitchen for breakfast without letting him get back to the bed that was calling his name.

That was always the hardest part. By that point, America had been awake long enough for his brain to be active again, switching from "sluggish" mode to "hyperactive demon child" mode.

This meant he was very fast, very sneaky, and very agile.

So England often had to chase him through the house, like a cat chasing after a stray mouse. If it weren't for the tea he'd consumed earlier, the island nation would never succeed.

Almost always, the chase ended with America draped over England's shoulder, pounding on the older man's back and demanding to be let go, with England ignoring every demand and continuing the journey to the kitchen.

Once they actually got to the kitchen, England would force the child down at the table, then actually get around to making breakfast. He had learned long ago that making breakfast beforehand was _not_ a good idea, because the entire ordeal of waking America up could take at least an hour on a particularly bad day.

Luckily, once they got down to the kitchen, America apparently realized he'd lost. At that point, he would remain seated at the table and wait for his breakfast, instead of making a break for his bedroom.

It could also be due to the fact that the one time he _did_ do that, England gave him such a severe spanking the boy couldn't sit for a week. He had not repeated his mistake since then.

Once breakfast was done, England would serve it to America and prepare himself another cup of tea, as the energy boost from the first cup had already been drained in dealing with the morning hassle.

As England drank his tea and watched America eat his breakfast, he'd wonder why he'd even taken in the child. He wouldn't have to deal with this, and his life would be about a million times easier.

Then, America would finish his breakfast, hop off the chair, and race over to his brother. He'd hug the man tightly, thank him for breakfast (even if it was "yucky"), tell him he loved him, and race off to be his usual energetic self.

And England would watch him, smiling softly, remembering exactly why he'd taken the child in.

…Only to wonder all over again the next morning.


End file.
